


[ghosts that we knew] will flicker from view

by MokuK



Category: Thief Lord (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Thief!Prosper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MokuK/pseuds/MokuK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prosper has resorted to thievery in order to support his younger brother and delusional mother when he meets an elusive Thief Lord in the streets of Venice. Meanwhile, in daylight, he befriends a boy who helps him but also confuses him. There's something that he just can't put his finger on...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of running feet filled the dark alleyway, accompanied by harsh panting. In the dim light, all that could be seen was a single figure, male, approximately early teens, with medium-length curly hair that bounced as he ran.

_RUNRUNRUNDON'TGETCAUGHTRUNRUNRUN_ was the manta that pounded in his ears as he heard the police yelling behind him for him to stop and to show himself. That was the one thing he couldn't do. He grasped the stolen jewelry in his hands with a grip that would never allow it to fall. He had to get back, back to his brother, to the only person he found important in his life anymore, to the person that he dedicated his life to.

Allowing himself one last look backwards, he saw the light of a flashlight and ducked into a stone doorway, where he pressed himself up against the wall and waited for his persuers to pass by. His heart nearly lept out of his chest when he heard the policemen run by, shouting at each other. He only allowed himself a breath when he was sure that they were all past.

"Well, what do we have here? A little thief, I presume?" He spun around, snarling. Before him stood a figure cloaked in black, with a bird's mask covering half of his face. All that could be seen was an apathetic set of pursed lips and dark brown eyes that seemed to be gleaming with amusement and curiosity.

Careful to move slowly, he pocketed the jewelry in his coat, maintaining eye contact the entire time. "And what of it?" he questioned warily. "What are you going to do about it?"

The cloaked figure lept off of his perch, landing with a soft thud onto the stone floor. His head flashed up once more, face serious. "Why nothing at all, of course. I assume you must have your reasons?" He allowed a single nod, careful not to let the other leave his sight.

As the person approached him, he noticed that he seemed to be of around the same height as himself, with brown hair that nearly reached his shoulders. His face was youthful, so they must be around the same age, the other possibly older by a year or two.

"Then there's no problem at all. Run along then. Your family must be waiting for you." His eyes widened. It must have just been a careless guess, that's all. He turned and set about on his way, feet pattering on the wet stone that paved the road. Behind him, he heard a soft call of, "I hope to see you later, my fellow thief."

He spun. The figure was gone. Narrowing his eyes, he continued running back home, where he could finally feel safe. And then life would continue on as it always had.

o0o0o0o0o

Prosper sighed. He hated school, he really did. Every day was like the other, a constant drone of homework and studying. He had no friends, had no need for any, so he filled his time loitering in the library, reading everything he could get his hands on.

Life was decent, save for the fact that he was often picked on because of his girlish looks or his family's…financial status. The social ranks played a major part in the school. Those who were poor were picked on and bullied while those who were better off were the ones to do the harassing. Prosper was one of those that was poor, having gotten in only through scholarship. Those like him were extremely few in number, so he was isolated.

The teachers seemed to like him well enough though. There was Mr. Getz, who taught Italian, English, and Latin. He was a friendly person and always liked coming into class with a new disguise every day, claiming that he used to be a detective before settling down and becoming a teachers. The science teacher was Ms. Spavento. She was a kind and motherly figure that always seemed to be smiling at him, helping him when he got into tough situations. There was Mr. Barbarossa, who taught math. He always used money as examples and had quite the reputation for scamming students of their money. Needless to say, he never scammed Prosper (seeing as he had no money to give), and tolerated him. The last teacher was Conte, which was what everybody called him. Nobody knew what his real name was, but nobody seemed to care in the least. Conte was old and his classes often put students to sleep, but those who managed to stay awake actually learned a lot.

Prosper heard the shrill bell ring, signaling the end of the school day. With a huff, he slammed his book shut, sliding it back onto the shelf in its proper place. Hefting his backpack onto his shoulder, he exited the library with a half-hearted wave and a smile at the librarian, who pursed her lips in return. Despite his frequent visits, she never seemed to like him.

The wave of people that greeted him was one that he had long learned to navigate, finding the cracks in the crowd and slipping through due to his thin frame. Finally, he made his way to the door with little trouble, exiting out to the fresh air. Legitimate sunlight simply couldn't beat the fluorescent lights of the school, no matter how energy efficient the lightbulbs were.

He sprinted down the stairs and ran out onto the street, eager to get away from the school as fast as possible before any of his harassers found him. Today didn't seem to be a lucky one, as he was cornered by three taller teenagers who wore identical sneers on their faces.

"Well well well, if it isn't poor Prop." One laughed. "It must be our lucky day!"

Prosper turned his head away with a grimace. "Doesn't seem to be mine. And couldn't you come up with a more interesting name if you're going to give me one?" He made to leave but was jerked back by a rough hand that threw him against the wall. Prosper refused to let out a cry of pain, despite the knowledged that it would leave a bruise, joining the plethora of contusions around his body.

One of the teenagers punched him in the stomach when he wasn't paying attention, driving him to his knees. Of all the things to happen, Prosper hadn't expected that. It only got worse. Another, perhaps the burliest of the group, yanked him up from the ground by the lapel of his shirt, proceeding to throw him to the ground with enough force that Prosper could practically guarantee a thin fracture. Knowing what the three were there for, he clutched onto his backpack, refusing to let them have any access at all to whatever he had in it.

Prosper could feel their frustration and enjoyment radiating off of them, which spurred him to increase his hold on the backpack. The three descended onto him, kicking him back and forth, tossing him around. The younger teen clenched his teeth. He wouldn't let them have the satisfaction of hearing him scream in pain. Besides, the best thing to do would be to wait it out. It wasn't as though anybody would stop to help.

"Stop."

The single commanding voice got his attackers to stop assaulting him, allowing him to hesitantly get to his feet. He didn't trust himself to run just yet, so he slowly inched away, holding onto his bag with with an iron grip.

"And what do you want with us, pretty boy?" Prosper forced one eye to open, giving him a blurry image of another boy standing at the entrance of the alley. He was standing there with his hands in his pockets. Prosper couldn't make out many details, but he could see the brown hair, which wasn't really much help in identifying his savior.

As he watched, the boy strode closer, ignoring the protests of the three bullies. He came to a halt a foot away from Prosper, who threw his backpack on and shifted backwards, stopping when he saw a hand reaching out to him.

"Come on." Even though he couldn't see his face through his swollen eyes, Prosper latched onto the offered hand and felt a jerk and he was dragged along after the running teen. He kept his eyes up and barely open, so he could see where he was going through the tiniest slit. Even though Prosper was tripping over every bit of ground he was traversed, he felt oddly safe and protected, despite not knowing the identity of the person pulling him along.

After weaving through people, random obstacles, and buildings, Prosper skidded to a halt, panting. "I…think we lost them…"

The other teenager spun his head around, scanning the area for any signs of their persuers. "Alright. Coast is clear," He turned to face Prosper. "You alright there? Seems like they did quite a bit of damage. If you want, I can help patch you up."

Prosper yanked his hand back. The other boy looked down at his now empty hand, surprised as though he had forgotten that they had been linked. Awkwardly, he shoved the hand into his pockets, glancing over at Prosper with a casual glance. Sighing, Prosper averted his eyes and stared at a random sign while he replied, "I would, but I need to get home soon. My brother still needs to eat and…"

The teen coughed. "Yeah, sure. That's okay. Just…make sure to patch up. Oh right, I never introduced myself, did I?" He removed his hand from his pocket once more, reaching out towards Prosper. "The name's Scipio."

Grasping the hand in a firm grip, Prosper shook it once. "I'm Prosper. Nice to meet you, Scip." The name felt foreign on his tongue, but he liked the feel of it.

Scip smiled. "And nice to meet you too, Prosper. So, are we friends now?"

"Friends?" Prosper furrowed his brows. He had never had friends before… The word felt weird but it was nice. Friends. "Sure then. Friends." Prosper answered with a shy grin of his own, tucking his hair behind an ear.

o0o0o0o0o

Right before  _he_ appeared, Prosper felt a chill down his back.

"So we meet again, little thief." The teen scowled under his new mask, one he had just found so he could keep his face hidden. Just in case.

"Aren't you a thief yourself? Why take an intrest in this little thief?" Prosper tightened his hold on that night's catch, a sapphire brooch surrounded by diamonds. It would be enough to feed them for a while and there was no way he was going to give up his prize.

The other person stepped out of the shadows. "Now now, many call me the Thief Lord, and you may do so as well. What name would I have the pleasure of calling you, little thief?"

A name? Prosper hadn't thought that far. He searched through his mind, trying to find the right words to string together. "How about…Maschera Fortunato?" He smirked. It would work for the meantime. After all, it was fitting wasn't it? Lost in thought, he fingered his white and purple mask. It was expressionless, he knew. There was no need for emotions here.

"Maschera Fortunato, huh? Seems a bit mouthy for me. I'll call you Schera, then!" Prosper could see the small smirk on the Thief Lord's face, feeling the heat rising on his own. He had known this person for a mere two nights, and he had already been given a nickname?

Prosper spun on his heels, preparing to leave. "That's fine, I suppose." However, before he could cover any ground, he felt a hand grab hold of his arm and pull him back.

"You never told me your reasons last time we met, did you?" An innocent question, but Prosper sneered his reply. He didn't have any time for petty tricks and useless questions. He had always maintained his distance from people and he had no need for socializing in the middle of a theft, whether the other was fellow thief or not.

He yanked his arm out of the grip, wincing as he felt a jolt of pain spark from one of the still unhealed bruises. "It's none of your business,  _Thief Lord._  You have your motives and I have mine. I see no reason to be sharing them in the flooded streets of Venice, and in the middle of theft of all times."

That mouth bothered him greatly. There was no smirk, but a corner of it twitched, and that was enough to set off Prosper's rage. "Can't you leave me alone? I have no such desire to be fraternizing with you and would greatly appreciate it if you would merely LEAVE. ME. ALONE." Prosper hissed, stalking away from the other thief.

As 'Schera' disappeared into the shadows of Venice, the Thief Lord tugged lightly at his bird mask with a wry smile, crossing his arms as he leaned against a nearby wall. "Seems like I've lit the boy's flame. You can come out now, Riccio, Mosca, Hornet."

From a hidden doorway, three people, around the height of mere children, emerged. The shortest, a boy, reached up and scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile. "Ah, he caught us, huh?"

The girl rolled her eyes, the motion lost in the darkness. "Of course he did. I knew it was a bad idea to follow him."

The third person, another boy threw his arms up in exasperation. "It was all Riccio's fault. He had the brilliant idea of stalking you to see where you were going!"

"I did not!" Riccio replied in indignition. "Besides, Mosca, you and Hornet were all for the idea too! Admit it, you were curious, weren't you?"

The Thief Lord held up his hands for silence, which was provided almost immediately. "Alright, I don't care whose idea it was. Let's just get back to the Stella. I know Hornet and I still have school tomorrow and we still need to help you two with catching up on the most basic education. I can't help you three forever, so this is important, okay?"

"Okay…" The three chorused, shuffling back to the decrepit abandoned theater that they called home. The masked boy glanced over at the shadows that Schera had vanished in one last time before heading back to the building that he would never accept as his own home.


	2. Chapter 2

Prosper reluctantly got out of bed that morning. It wasn't as though his bed was comfortable, because it really wasn't. What kind of bed made out of newspapers and miscellaneous blankets could be comfortable? No, it was because he dreaded school. Despite all of the constant bullying, he had never actually dreaded going to school, and he couldn't decipher the reason why he suddenly felt such dislike of school.

Groaning, he shifted out of bed, careful not to create much of a racket. It was lucky that Bo was still young enough that he didn't need to go to school yet. Besides, Prosper had taught his younger brother some things while they stayed at home, so the five-year-old knew enough to get by without a few years of schooling.

Everything looked blurry to Prosper, but he still dragged himself over to change out of his sleeping clothes into a decent looking long-sleeved shirt and slacks. He tugged at his hair with a comb, trying to untangle his curls, but they seemed particularly stubborn. Eventually he gave up, hefting his bag onto his shoulders and silently leaving the house without any breakfast. Prosper had long since gotten used to getting though the day without any sustenance.

The walk to school seemed awfully long, more so than usual, but he kept trudging on, ignoring everything around him and keeping his eyes on the ground. He knew that somewhere along the way, Scipio would ambush him with a greeting and walk alongside him. The teen let out a sigh, rubbing at his eyes. He really didn't have the energy to deal with the other's antics. As much as he enjoyed the company, there was only so much he could take. Anyway, he had only known Scipio for a week, which wasn't a lot of time to forge a trusting friendship.

Sure enough, in five minutes' time, he heard the usual call of, "Good morning, Prosper!" The recipient of the call rolled his eyes, holding up a hand in greeting.

"Good morning, Scipio." Scipio jogged up to walk at a languid pace at Prosper's side, occaisionally attempting to start a conversation. Prosper tuned out the other teen, instead opting for staring at the passing scenery. The flowers were blooming in the most obscure of locations, he decided, as he saw a beautiful blue blossom sprouting out of a water pipe. As he looked closely, he saw little details that he usually missed on the daily trek.

His mind wandered as his feet mindlessly carried him one step after another, closer and closer to the prison that they called "school". Without even noticing it, Prosper let out a heavy sigh, drawing the attention of his friend, who had long been silent upon realizing that the brunet wasn't listening. "What's wrong, Prosper?" Scipio took a step out forward, blocking the other teen's path. Stepping around Scipio, Prosper continued walking, ignoring any protests launched at him.

"It's nothing," Prosper murmered, rubbing at his eyes. "I'm just a little bit tired is all," He turned to look back at Scipio with a fabricated smile on his lips. He spun around, continuing his walk. "Come on then, we'll be late for school if we keep this up." Prosper was unaware of the frown that Scipio flashed at him, only hearing the sound of footsteps behind him.

"If you say so," Scipio drawled. "The bell is supposed to ring in about five minutes, so we might want to hurry it up a bit then!" Prosper's eyes widened. He didn't own a watch, so he had no idea what the time was, but he hadn't expected it to be that late already!

Prosper bit back an expletive, sprinting at full speed, school bag bouncing behind him as he ran. Behind him, Scipio sighed as he watched his new friend run away, slipping into an alleyway. There were shortcuts that paved through Venice, but he wasn't going to share them with anybody else anytime soon.

o0o0o0o0o

The sun was shining and he was stuck in school listening to a teacher drone on and on about the Pax Romana. Prosper loved learning, despite abhoring school itself. It was beneficial and it helped him know more about everything. Today, however, he just wanted to run outside and bask in the warm sunlight instead of learning about European History. Prosper's pencil flew over his notebook, carefully transcribing every note that he would need for future reference, but his mind was on his plans for later that night.

A cough broke the flow of his writing. When Prosper looked up, he came face to face with Conte, who stared back apathetically. "I asked, if you had been listening, if you could give us the literal translation of Pax Romana."

Prosper replied with a straight face. He didn't want to give Conte the satisfaction of knowing that he had caught him off guard. "The Roman Peace." he deadpanned, returning his gaze to his notebook, occaisionally darting his eyes up to copy down notes from the board.

He could still feel Conte's disapproving stare on him, but he ignored it. Finally, he heard Conte let out a huff of indignition and walk away, possibly to torment some other daydreaming student. As soon as he deemed himself safe from the teacher's prying eyes, he slipped the blueprints of the next location from under a folder, jotting down quick notes for his escape plan.

The target tonight was a pair of sapphire earrings, with a gold clasp and diamonds embedded in the frame. The only reason he knew of it was because some stuck-up rich bastard in his school had been boasting about how his mom had won the earrings from an online auction and how they were supposed to have belonged to some ancient queen or something. All Prosper cared was that they were worth a lot of money. Nothing else. Besides, it had been a week since the last theft, and the landlady was beginning to complain again. SIghing, he tucked the blueprints away, jotting down a couple more notes on the famous Roman emperors.

Sometimes Prosper wished that he could just live his life like a normal teenager, but the second he got home and saw how eagerly Bo would greet him, he banished all thoughts of living a normal life, concentrating only on making it so that he and his brother could live in peace while supporting their sick mother. As much as he loved his mother, he sincerely wished that he wasn't the only one supporting the family. His nighttime "job" was necessary in order for him to pay for  _all_ the expenses...

The shrill bell signaling a change in classes filled Prosper with relief. Soon, the school day would be over, and then he could become Schera.

Of course, he first had to finish his homework...

o0o0o0o0o

Scipio watched as Prosper was once again cornered by a group of harassers. He smiled bitterly to himself. Prosper really did seem to get into quite a bit of trouble, huh? Before that fateful day a week ago, he had barely even noticed the teen. He had only intervened because he felt like those guys had been taking it a bit too far with their attacking.

Now that he paid attention though, it seemed as though Prosper faced situations like that at least twice a day on average. Before he could stride up to help, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Stsanding behind him was Hornet, eyebrow quirked up.

"Planning to play hero, Scipio?" He gave a sheepish smile in response.

"Well, it's always good to help a new friend in need, isn't it?"

Hornet's expression grew more questioning, if that was even possible. "When did you and Mr. Scholarship grow so friendly?"

Scipio's face fell. Oh right... He hadn't told Hornet and the others about the incident a week ago. He settled for a simple, "Well, it's a long story..."

Hornet rolled her eyes. "I guess you have a legitimate reason for whatever you're going to do. I'll be in the library if you need me!" With a grin, she clapped him on the back and strode off. Scipio flashed a grateful smile at her retreating back. Hornet and the others knew of his family situation and didn't judge him for that. He was grateful that the three were so understanding and didn't care about the past. Only the present.

As Scipio headed over to where Prosper was - once again - cornered by a group of thugs, he realized that there was something mysterious about Prosper that had attracted him at first. He didn't know what it was, just that if he associated with him, something interesting was going to happen.

A feral grin spread on his visage as he stalked over to the little "gathering." Oh yes, life was going to be interesting from now on.

So interesting that he would even be able to put away his nightly duties and thoughts of his bastard family for a while.

o0o0o0o0o

It wasn't as though he was expecting anything, Prosper tried convincing himself. Letting out a sigh as he hid in the dark alleyways of Venice, he realized that it was no use. The nightly endeavors really were no fun without the presence of the Thief Lord.

Prosper glared at nothing in particular, thoughts raging. No. It wasn't supposed to be fun. This was so that he could support himself and Bo so that they could live like normal people, without needing to worry about everything in the world. Without worrying about their own survival.

He fingered the elaborate mask covering his face as he waited for the raucous police chase to pass by him so that he could head back. Schera was one with the shadows, and there he would stay so as to not get caught. Bo and his mother depended on him.

Finally, the chase grew silent, and Prosper swept through the streets. He had learned how to hide, had needed to learn how to disappear. A bitter grimace reached his lips. Necessity had taught him everything that he needed to learn.

So had the Thief Lord.

Prosper groaned to himself. He somewhat wished that the enigmatic thief had showed up that night. The Thief Lord had been coaching him on the ways of thievery. Sometimes he thought that Schera was only a tool for entertainment for the Thief Lord, but then there would be a sudden moment of compassion and kindness that caught him off guard. He didn't understand why the Thief Lord even bothered with Schera the way he did, teaching him shortcuts and handy tips for escape.

Huffing a sigh, he slipped into an alleyway, tearing off his mask and changing into his casual clothes. Prosper hefted a backpack on, running all the way home.

At least he could stand school now, he thought fleetingly, with Scipio keeping him company.

Friends were a nice thing to have.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter took a long time to write and I have no idea why… Welp, I have finals coming up in just about everything and school’s almost out, so I should be able to get things rolling soon! Shame The Thief Lord has just a small fandom. *sigh* I have an idea for what’s going to happen next, so that should come a bit faster! (Maybe. No promises.)

He really thought that he had been minding his own business when a girl approached him, looming over him as he sat in the library chair, feeling quite small as she bent down and stared him in the face. Prosper looked up, trying to not frown or smile or even twitch as she observed him. The library was empty save for the two of them, and Prosper couldn’t think of a single reason why she would have approached him unless she wanted to beat him up like so many of the other rich and snobby students in the school. “So you’re Mr. Scholarship, huh? I honestly don’t get what Scipio sees in you.” Oh, so that was why.

“You’re friends with Scipio?” The girl grinned, pulling out a chair and sliding into it easily while maintaining eye contact.  She leaned forward and rested her head on her entwined fingers. She didn’t seem particularly threatening, aside from the toothy smile that she was flashing at him. Her long brown hair was tied back in a braid that reached her all the way down to her waist. She looked around his age, maybe older, maybe younger. She was dressed in the school uniform, a white button-down blouse tucked into a green and black plaid skirt with mid-calf white socks and shiny black dress shoes.

Not receiving an answer, Prosper returned his gaze to the book in his hands, trying to concentrate on the words before him. It was an interesting crime fiction, full of stunts and trickery. It would be perfect material for his future…escapades. The only reason why it was actually useful was since the feats actually seemed plausible and doable. After all, not everybody could jump out of a ten-story building and survive without a scratch. A two-story building, on the other hand—

The girl cut off his thought process with an ill timed, “Yes, actually. I am a friend of Scipio’s. The question is, are you?”

Prosper glanced up at her, confused. “Give me a reason why I should feel obliged to divulge that information to you and then maybe I will.”

Laughing, her grin widened. “I like you. You have quite a bit of spunk in you. I’ll tell you why I’m interrogating you.” Her expression grew stern as she leaned in closer. “Scipio comes from a rich family, but I won’t give you all the dirty details on that. People try to take advantage of that, so he grew not to trust people. If I see you getting too close and then throwing whatever trust you two build back in his face, I swear to you that I will hunt you down and hire people to torture you and kill you in the most gruesome way possible.” Smiling once more, she retreated away from him face. “I’m Caterina, by the way, but you can call me Hornet. Everybody else does, anyway.”

Turning back to his book, he murmured, “I’m Prosper, not Mr. Scholarship. Nice to meet you, Hornet.” He darted his eyes up to flash her a quick grin.

Hornet smiled pleasantly, expression softening. “Well, now that conversation’s over. I felt like a father giving away his daughter to the vagrant boyfriend.” She laughed as Prosper blushed furiously, burying his face into the book. “What are you reading?”

Prosper beamed at the girl, starting on a rambling tangent about the sheer brilliance of the writing. Hornet merely watched with amusement as his eyes lit up with excitement. She was starting to see exactly why Scipio found the boy interesting. Maybe, if the time came, they would tell him more and let him into their secret world.

Just maybe.

o0o0o0o

Of all off the things that Scipio had been expecting, it wasn’t Prosper and Hornet walking out of the library engaged in an animated conversation. They two were rapidly conversing, their heads close as they gestured with their hands and seemed to be having a debate.

Scipio coughed pointedly as they approached him. Two heads shot up and they met his eyes. Hornet’s face lit up and Prosper’s… Well, Prosper’s didn’t seem to change much, but the excitement had disappeared. The teen pouted to himself. If he wanted to get a kick out of Prosper and become friendlier with the boy, it seemed as though he would need to put in more effort. “What are you two talking about?”

“Books.” Hornet said, walking past him, smirking. Scipio knew that she was relishing the fact when she had made more progress with Prosper than he had.

 Prosper just rolled his eyes and glanced over at a clock that was hanging on the wall. “Shit!” he cursed, scrambling to gather all of his things together. “I really need to go, sorry!” Without another word, he dashed through the school doors and ran out onto the streets of Venice.

Hornet looked at Scipio, who grinned before speedily following Prosper out. With an exasperated sigh, the girl followed him out. They could just barely make out Prosper in the throng of people crowding the streets. The corners were sharp and fast, Prosper speeding through them with ease. It was as though he knew every inch of the streets, even the cramped alleys. They trailed him until the crowd thinned, leading them into what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse. There was a ratty curtain covering the hole that Prosper entered, calling out a soft, “Bo!”

A young and eager voice answered, “Prop!” When Hornet and Scipio peeked in through the moth-eaten curtain, they saw a small blond boy run up to Prosper and throw himself at the twelve-year-old. Prosper laughed joyfully, twirling the little boy around for a while before gently setting him on the ground. Taking his hand, he led the child through another curtain.

Scipio frowned, whispering, “I remember him mentioning a brother once… I don’t recall him every mentioning that he lived in such a decrepit location though.”

“Of course he wouldn’t, Scipio.” Hornet sighed. “Nobody likes telling other people that they live in an abandoned warehouse that doesn’t even seem to have proper plumbing. I wonder exactly why he’s living in such a place though.”

“Where are his parents then? They should be providing for the two of them, shouldn’t they?” Scipio mused.

Hornet shushed him just as Prosper entered the room again. His little brother wasn’t hanging on him this time, and they watched in silence as he opened a rotten cupboard and pulled out a bottle of medicine.

Scipio’s eyes widened. “Is he—” he hissed through his teeth. Hornet glared at him, which was more than enough to shut him up. Prosper tiptoed to a pile of blankets in the corner of the room, gently placing a hand on the lump and shaking it slightly.

“Mother… It’s time for you to take your medicine. I managed to get enough money to order a refill too.” The pile of blankets shifted, and the two eavesdroppers watched in silent horror when a thin pale woman sat up, a weak smile on her lips.

She accepted the pills and water that Prosper handed her, swallowing them as though they were air. “Prosper…” she rasped. “How did you manage to get the money this time?”

From where they were seated, Scipio and Hornet couldn’t see the expression on Prosper’s face, but they heard the weariness and apprehension in his voice when he whispered, “Any way possible, _madre_...”

“Oh, Prosper…” There was a desperation to her words that made Prosper flinch and edge backwards, hoisting himself to his feet.

“It’s alright, really. I mean, it’s not as though I’ve resorted to prostitution or drug dealing. Really. Come on now, go back to sleep. I’ll be making some dinner for you and Bo. I even bought some eggs and bread.” The boy slipped back into the other room as his mother watched him silently. Jerkily, she slid under her covers once more.

Scipio and Hornet had seen enough. They snuck away from the curtain, breaking out into a run once they were sure that their footsteps wouldn’t be heard.

o0o0o0o

When they reached the Stella, Scipio grabbed the knocker and slammed it down three times, the bangs echoing in the alleyway. Riccio’s voice was muffled through the door. “Password!” he demanded.

Scipio rolled his eyes. “Really, Riccio? You know it’s me. Hornet’s here too, so you _really_ don’t want to be doing this.” There was an audible gulp through the wood, and moments later, the door creaked open as the small boy let them in. Hornet was like the strict mother of their ragtag group, keeping order in the Stella when things got out of control. Just about everybody was terrified of Hornet when she got angry.   _Everybody_.

Once they were in the cool confines of the abandoned theater, Scipio sagged into one of the moth-eaten seats and threw his head back, groaning softly. He wasn’t exactly tired, but he was still trying to process the lack of financial support that Prosper and his family had. His mother was bedridden and his brother was no older than seven! How in the world did Prosper even manage to support them? Scipio stared at the ceiling thoughtfully, eyes tracing out the cracks and designs. He didn’t know much about Prosper, but it didn’t seem like he had a job, not when he spent most of his time in the library or studying. The only other option was unthinkable. Besides, Prosper _had_ said that he wasn’t dealing drugs or prostituting himself, but maybe that was only to appease his mother and keep her from worrying.

“Scipio?” The teen’s head snapped forward, and he winced when his neck ached in protest. Mosca was looking at him oddly.

Scipio supposed that he had blanked out for just a bit too long. “Yes…?” Mosca turned to look at Riccio and Hornet for a bit of support, which they provided by inching a bit closer. Scipio raised an eyebrow. Why exactly were they so apprehensive? It wasn’t as though he was a ticking time bomb about to explode. “I’m not mad about anything, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m just…thinking.”

“The Thief Lord, thinking! That’ll be the day! Take care not to hurt yourself!” Riccio chirped.

Rolling his eyes, Scipio sat up straighter, looking each of them in the eye. “What’s the matter?”

Hornet shifted awkwardly, but looked significantly more relaxed. “It’s just, we were wondering. Could we tag along tonight as well? We found old masks and costumes in the back of the Stella and we were wondering if we could go with you.”

“You guys do realize that I don’t actually ‘steal’ anything, right?” Scipio reminded. “I just filch from those bastards that call themselves my parents. And then I just run through the night.”

“We know!” Mosca said hurriedly. “We just…wanted to be part of your nightly escapades.”

Scipio laughed, choking out a, “I hope you do realize that you made it sound as though I visit prostitutes every night.” As Mosca blushed furiously and scrambled for a way to redeem his previous statement, Scipio interjected his rambling with a curt, “Sure.”

The three stared at him. “What?” they chorused eloquently.

“I said, sure.” Scipio smirked. “Get your costumes on, my band of merry men—and woman. Don’t worry, Hornet, I didn’t forget you,” he added quickly just as he saw Hornet begin to scowl. “We have a thief to visit tonight!”

o0o0o0o

The night air was chilly, but it didn’t do anything for Prosper’s headache. He groaned quietly as a jolt of pain shot through his head. Massaging the bridge of his nose, he looked down from the roof as a group of policemen ran past, shouting directions and orders. Despite the pain, he had to smile at the thought of them running right by him, all too ignorant to even try looking upwards. He slid back into the shadows, resting against the fence that enclosed the rooftop.

Prosper slid his mask back on, not willing to take any chances. Leaning back and tapping his head against the metal fence didn’t help much for the ache, but it did help him focus his mind and realize that he had visitors.

He clenched his bag tighter, well aware of who it was. Even if the Thief Lord hadn’t taken his haul before, it was no reason to let his guard down. He had done so once and that had resulted in quite a bit of chaos. Prosper lifted a hand to his mask and prepared himself for the probing banter that the other thief provided.

However, he didn’t expect that there would be others with him. As they approached, Prosper assessed his companions. They were shorter than the Thief Lord, that was for sure. They hadn’t joined him before, so Prosper figured that they were just tagging along this one time. “I see we have guests.” Prosper tried to keep his tone neutral, forcing down his instantaneous desire to flee away from the unfamiliar figures.

“They insisted,” the Thief Lord said in his usual lackadaisical manner. “They wouldn’t really take no for an answer.”

“Hey!” One of the figures protested. “You’re the one who said we could come! We just asked once!” A different one, dressed in a robe that seemed to sparkle in the moonlight, smacked the one who had just talked on the head, hissing something that Prosper couldn’t hear. It might’ve been because of the wind or the chatter of the policemen, but Prosper was placing his bets on his troublesome headache.

Prosper pushed himself to his feet, fighting down the urge to keel over and just collapse against the cool stone. “What do you want? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bit busy here.” He nodded in the general direction of the commotion.

“Oh, we noticed!” It was the irritating one again.

The Thief Lord sighed. “You’ll have to excuse Hedgehog. It’s not often I let him join me and well, he had a bit of sugar before we left.

He raised an eyebrow despite knowing that they couldn’t see the action. “Right…” he drawled, moving to leave. As Prosper brushed past the group, the Thief Lord caught his hand and held on tight. Prosper didn’t have the strength to pull away, so he just stopped and turned to face him.

“What?” he sneered, hoping that it would be enough to get the other thief to let go. It wasn’t.

The Thief Lord looked down at his hand, then back up at Prosper’s face—or really, the mask that covered it. They locked eyes for a second before the Thief Lord let go, as though he himself didn’t understand why he had done that. “Nothing,” he said curtly. He stared at Prosper’s hand, then said, more quietly, “Are you sick?”

Prosper spun on his heels and walked away at as brisk a pace as he could manage. “None of your business if I am, is it?” he shot back as he left the group of four behind.

As he started down the stairs, he heard a voice comment, “Well, he’s a jolly one, isn’t he?”

 _If only_ , Prosper thought bitterly as he stumbled out into the street, biting his lip to keep himself from collapsing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's summer now! Which means that I'm going to be writing a whole lot more than I do during the school year~ I'm doing Camp NaNoWriMo for July, so I won't be working a lot of other pieces, but I will be continuing the hopefully regular updates of FBFC and Borderline! This and Chibis Go To Hogwarts will continue to be updated every so often, but not regularly. I might be starting some other pieces, but who knows… Anyway, I hope this chapter satisfies! Reviews and critiques are always welcome!

There was a throbbing in his head that wouldn't go away, no matter what Prosper tried. He groaned softly, massaging his temple as he prepared a simple cheese and lettuce sandwich for Bo's breakfast. He had already eaten a stale bagel with an apple for breakfast, which had been meager but satisfying enough. His brother seemed perfectly fine and not at all feeling horrible, so that was a small relief. "Bo," he called out. "I need to go now. Remember—"

"—to give Mommy her medicine. I know, Prop!" Prosper smiled despite the pain. Bo was like an angel sometimes. A blond hyperactive angel, but an angel nonetheless. Even though their lives were bad, Bo never stopped smiling. Prosper held onto that smile like a lifeline.

Prosper leaned down and hugged his brother briefly before dashing out of the run-down room. He tried running, but his breath kept catching in his throat, so he resorted to a brisk walk. Nausea slowly settled in as the world began spinning before his eyes. Prosper found the cool stone of a wall and leaned back against it, closing his eyes and breathing deeply until the world stabilized. Only then did he push off and continue.

By the time he made it to the school gates, his face was pale and he was sweating. He raised a hand to his forehead and grimaced when he felt a burning heat from his skin. He was sick. Prosper knew that much from the symptoms. He had tended to Bo before when his brother had caught a cold, but Prosper had never caught one himself. It wasn't a good sign. He had a heist tonight that he needed to pull off. They were running low on food again and he needed supplies to fix a broken window. Not to mention, winter was about to settle in and blankets were a necessity. Prosper slowed his pace, ambling through the school gate as other students filed in around him. He took care not to bump into anybody or stumble into his classmates. The day wasn't off to a good start. Then again, when was it ever?

He only half expected the collision when he walked right into somebody. After managing a short stutter of apology, he looked up into concerned brown eyes—eyes that just so happened to belong to Scipio. Prosper groaned again, trying to evade his friend, but he had no such luck. Scipio grabbed his arm as he was about to slip away and darted his eyes over Prosper's face, eyebrows furrowing as he took in the sweat and pained expression. "Are…you okay, Prosper?"

"Fine." Prosper muttered through gritted teeth.

Scipio raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips. The concern stayed firmly lodged in his eyes. "You sure don't look it."

Prosper rolled his eyes and yanked his arm out of Scipio's grip. "I'm  _fine_." He muttered, with considerably less hostility than the last time. Jamming his hands into his worn-out pockets, he stalked away from Scipio. The throbbing was still painfully present, probably with no intention of leaving anytime soon. Biting the inside of his mouth, he ignored the spinning as he entered the prison he called school.

o0o0o0o

Scipio watched as Prosper slump forward in his seat, rubbing the bridge of his nose as the brunet stifled a wince. Rolling his eyes, Scipio crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, amazed at how stubborn Prosper could be, when he was clearly in pain. The usually attentive student probably wasn't even paying attention to Ms. Spavento at the moment. Ms. Spavento probably didn't mind, what with how much she doted on the boy. He _was_  the best student in their class after all, being the scholarship student, as well as the youngest.

He stifled a snicker when Prosper's head lolled forward, but the amusement quickly turned into worry when he saw Prosper's hands shaking. The younger boy wrapped his arms around himself, clenching his fingers so hard into his own flesh that it turned white around the imprints. Restraining himself from letting out a cry of exasperation, he raised his hand and patiently waited for the science teacher to notice him.

Eventually she did, pausing in her explanation of the element fluoride to call on him. "Yes, Mr. Massimo?"

"May I escort Prosper to the infirmary? He doesn't seem to be feeling well." Prosper's head shot to look back at Scipio. He looked almost insulted at the very idea of being taken to the infirmary.

The other turned back to protest, tone almost panicked, "No, it's fine! I'm perfectly alright, really."

Ms. Spavento looked horribly conflicted while the rest of the class just looked incredibly amused. "I—how about you first go see the nurse, and then if she deems you able to join the class, you return. Your health is important, after all, and if Mr. Massimo says that you might be feeling unwell, then you must get it checked out."

Allowing himself a small sound of success, Scipio rose to his feet and strode over to stand by Prosper's desk, looking down at the other. The brunet glared up at him, but stood regardless. When he wavered slightly, Scipio settled a hand on Prosper's arm to steady him. Prosper glared, but allowed himself to be herded out of the classroom to the whistles and jeers of his classmates.

Once they were out in the hallway, Prosper yanked his arm away. Again. "Did you have to do that in the middle of class?" he hissed. Even though he sounded indignant, he was still shivering. The intimidation didn't really work when the deliverance came with chattering teeth.

Scipio sighed, grabbing hold of Prosper's hand and dragging him along. "Don't be so stubborn. I saw how much you were shivering and how you kept reaching up to fuss with your head. You're sick and you know it. Now stop struggling and let me bring you to the infirmary."

From behind, there was a strangled sound of frustration, but Prosper stopped trying to wrench his hand out of Scipio's. "Why do you care?"

The question only slightly startled Scipio. He had been expecting it someday, but not at that moment. "You're interesting. Besides, you're a feisty one, but I've seen how relaxed and happy you look at the library. You, Prosper, are a very curious person, and you just keep getting curiouser and curiouser."

Prosper didn't look amused. "Alice? Really, Scipio?" The thirteen-year-old grinned and pulled Prosper along faster.

They were the only ones in the hallway, as most people were still in class. The squeaking of their shoes against the floor filled the hall. Prosper paled as his knees went weak and a sudden rush of nausea washed over him. His legs collapsed under him as he dropped to the floor. Alarmed, Scipio knelt down beside him. "Prosper! What's wrong?"

"Sorry, sorry. I think my legs just gave out under me," Prosper mumbled. Sighing, Scipio hooked his arms under Prosper's and helped lift him up.

"Here," Scipio offered, draping one of Prosper's arms around his neck. One arm held onto Prosper's hand and the other snaked around his waist to help support his weight. "You can lean on me."

Prosper glared weakly at the other teen. "I don't exactly have much of a choice right now, do I? I mean, you're already holding onto me and I clearly don't have the energy to push you off. I might as well just go along with it at this rate."

"That's right," Scipio grinned widely. "You should." Rolling his eyes, Prosper stumbled down the hallway, clinging onto Scipio and depending on him for balance.

o0o0o0o

It wasn't a long trek to the nurse's, but their silence dragged the trip out, turning the minute into what seemed like an hour of awkward companionship. Throughout their short walk, Prosper nearly fell twice, hoisted up by Scipio. Each time, Scipio would smirk at him encouragingly and assure him that they were almost there.

Eventually, they did reach the nurse, who fussed over Prosper for quite a while. Prosper was forced to lie down on a small bed, Scipio sitting by his side. Groaning, he draped his forearm over his eyes and bit his lips. The pounding in his head was unbearable and the throbbing was spreading throughout his entire body. His limbs felt heavy like lead. They wouldn't move, only twitching when he tried. Prosper was only faintly aware of the chattering going around him. He could make out the motherly voice of the nurse and Scipio's concerned explanation.

"Prosper, can you hear me?" Scipio's voice sounded disconnected and distant. Prosper tried nodding, jerkily moving his head. "Alright. You're really sick. Do you have anybody you can call to pick you up?" Prosper couldn't shake his head, instead twitching his head to the side, wincing as the movement caused the pain to intensify. Scipio sighed. "Is there any other way to get you home?" Another shake of the head. Scipio asked something else, but it didn't seem to be directed finding at him, so Prosper drifted off, finding comfort in the darkness behind his eyelids. "Prosper." Scipio was back. Humming softly, Prosper indicated that he was listening. "I can help take you home, but first we need to go to the pharmacy to get you some medicine. Can you move?" Prosper eased his arm away from his face, wincing as he was assaulted by the annoyingly bright fluorescent lights. His arms moved limply in an attempt to push himself up. "Alright, here, I'll support you. Can you tell me where you live?" Prosper nodded weakly, feeling warm arms lift him up and bring him to his feet. He dangled limply off of Scipio's shoulder, limbs still heavy.

Closing his eyes, Prosper allowed himself to be guided out of the school and onto the streets of Venice. He was just barely conscious enough to give directions, but didn't pay any attention to his surrounding, concentrating only on the constant security of Scipio's support.

o0o0o0o

Scipio didn't actually need the directions that Prosper had been giving him; he knew the way to Prosper's house already. He just didn't want Prosper to know that he did. Grunting, he hefted Prosper more securely onto his shoulder. Prosper was worryingly light, but still difficult to carry. The nurse had provided him with a bottle of pills along with the instructions to get Prosper something to eat before downing the pills with water.

To his surprise, Prosper was still conscious, albeit just barely. When they finally reached the warehouse, Prosper's brother latched onto his older brother and started glaring at Scipio, weakly kicking at the older teen's leg. "Ugh," Scipio groaned. "You know what? I'm your brother's friend, and he's sick, so I'm here to take care of him." Bo didn't move, but stopped glaring. He reluctantly allowed his brother to be dragged into their home, still hanging on like a koala. "Can you show me where Prosper's bed is?" Bo nodded, watching his brother for a moment before removing himself and leading Scipio to a bed of threadbare blankets and newpapers.

Scipio gently laid Prosper down onto the blankets, letting out a heavy sigh. He looked towards Bo. "Can you stay with him? I need to get him something to eat and some water." Bo nodded, attention focused on his brother as Prosper moaned softly. Scipio got up to his feet and headed for the doorway that Prosper had disappeared into when Scipio watched him. There was a mini fridge, which held a loaf of bread, a chunk of cheese, a small head of lettuce, and a pitcher of water. Scipio fashioned a quick sandwich from the leftover ingredients and found a cracked mug. He brought the water and sandwich back to Prosper, slipping the bottle of pills out of his pocket as well.

He eased Prosper up to a sitting position while Bo watched. "Here, can you eat?" Prosper blinked blearily, taking the sandwich and eating it slowly. Once he finished the sandwich, Scipio handed him two pills and the mug of water. "Take these pills and go to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up." Prosper acquiesced, downing the pills with ease and gulping down the water.

"You can go home if you want," Prosper said, sounding much more awake. His eyes had cleared. "I'm fine now. I'm sure you don't want to stay for long."

Scipio shrugged. "It's alright for me. I don't exactly have anything better to do."

"What about Hornet?"

The question took Scipio by surprise. "What about Hornet? I'm not her only friend, and I'm sure she'll understand."

Prosper lied down, closing his eyes. "Alright then. Suit yourself. Bo?"

"Yeah, Prop?"

"Go study those sheets I have you." Bo stuck out his tongue, but left. Scipio sat by Prosper in silence, keeping an eye on the bundle of blankets. "Bored yet?"

Scipio smirked, despite knowing that Prosper couldn't see him. "Not at all."

o0o0o0o

Schera fought the urge to fall to his knees and vomit his guts out. Coughing, he pocketed that night's prize and stumbled into the shadow, plastering himself against the walls as the police ran by, shouting directions at each other.

"You don't look well," a dry voice commented.

Tapping his head back against the stone, Schera commented sarcastically, "Really? I hadn't known."

There was the sound of a boots tapping against the ground, approaching him. "Have you taken medicine? Slept some? It would help, you know."

"I'm  _fine_ ," Schera spat, reaching a hand up to massage his temples. The mask nullified what calming effects there could have been, but it help somewhat.

The Thief Lord was silent, presumably watching him. He wasn't one to chat and run, which was interesting most nights, but infuriating this time around. Schera had no patience for useless chatter. He needed to get home and take his medicine again. Cutting off his sleep to pull of the heist wasn't a good idea, but he didn't care.

"You clearly need help," the other thief said.

"Will you just  _leave me alone_?" The headache was back, the throbbing intensified due all of the stunts he had pulled off in his attempt to outrun the police. Schera lunged forward, trying to get away before the Thief Lord could pry anymore than he had already.

A firm hand grabbed hold of his arm, keeping him in place. Schera didn't have the energy to fight back, slumping in exhaustion. "Let go…" he argued weakly.

"No."

Schera snarled without venom, "You are infuriating, I hope you know that."

The laughter was present as he shot back, "I do get told that quite often."

He didn't reply, letting sleep claim him. He was too tired to do anything. The jewelry wouldn't be gone tomorrow, and he could still exchange it all for money a day later. It wouldn't make any difference, and it was too much of an effort to stay conscious. The last thing he heard before falling to the ground was a panicked voice calling out his fabricated name.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well it certainly has been a while since I last updated. SO MANY THANKS TO MY FRIEND KAYLA who keeps side-eyeing me when I don't update or add on more. I hope this satisfies you even though you've already read most of this chapter for semi-proofreading.
> 
> Also, I've changed the title. It's from Ghosts We Knew by Mumford & Sons

Prosper shot up in the bed, eyes flying open. His chest heaved as he tried to force air back into his lungs. He felt congested and disoriented, and the uncomfortable weight around his eyes wasn’t helping any.

In a single moment, he remembered exactly what had happened before he passed out. His hand trembled as he raised it to his face, confirming that his mask was still in place. He felt exhausted all of a sudden, the alertness draining from his limbs. He slumped back and let his head fall against a pillow.

The tension was back. The last thing he remembered was blacking out in the middle of a conversation with the Thief Lord, but after that… He didn’t even have any idea where he was, if there was a threat around, or if his identity had been compromised. “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.

“My my, Schera. Who taught you that kind of language?” Prosper used what little strength he could dredge up to turn his head, catching sight of the Thief Lord sauntering in like he owned the whole place. Which, in hindsight, he probably did. There was no other possibility. He had fainted in the thief’s company and the Thief Lord (hopefully) didn’t know where he lived, so the only option left was the other thief’s home. Or some abandoned theater, but what were the chances? What he could make of his surroundings was too immaculate to be some deserted building.

Prosper shoved his elbows back, propping himself up on the bed. “Where are we?” he rasped. He brought a hand up to his throat as he doubled over and coughed dryly. The Thief Lord was rubbing soothing circles on his back when he straightened back up. “Why did you…”

The Thief Lord held out a cup of water and a small white pill. “Here, take these. They’ll help bring down your fever.” Prosper took them after a beat of hesitation, popping the pill in his mouth and gulping down the sweet, cool water. He wrinkled his brows at the bitter taste it left in his mouth. Gagging a little, he handed the cup back to the Thief Lord, who watched him with amusement visible through his mask. “Better?”

“I’m pretty sure fever reducing medicine doesn’t work that quickly,” Prosper deadpanned. “I feel no different, and I probably won’t for another hour or so.”

“It was worth a try,” the Thief Lord said, shrugging. “What do you plan on doing from here on?”

Prosper pushed himself to his feet, staggering a little as he tried to get a hold on his surroundings. He sorely regretted his earlier train of thought because it looked as though he actually was in an abandoned theater. Well, presumably abandoned given the amount of mattresses and furnishings scattered around the area. It seemed lived in though, so there went the possibility of being slaughtered in an undisclosed area and left for the crows to feed on.

“First,” Prosper said, glancing down at the Thief Lord from where he stood. “Can you at least tell me where I am?”

The other thief looked contemplative for all of a moment before he stood as well. “Fair enough. While you’re here, I can give you the grand tour,” Turning away from Prosper, he shouted, “Get yourselves hidden! The guest will be touring so I better not see any of you guys!”

Prosper watched him in amusement, spinning in a small circle so he could see more of his surroundings. It was literally an abandoned theater as he had guessed. The seats were plush and covered with the red cloth that featured in all of the generic representations of movie theaters. There was a low stage at the back of the room, heavy burgundy curtains drawn. Around the main theater space were blankets and books strewn around, toys and tools scattered around them. There were wires and contraptions set up across the ceiling. Overall, it looked tidy for a clutter.

The Thief Lord turned to him, beckoning with a hand. “Come on then. I had to put away my minions for you, so you better enjoy this tour.”

Prosper grinned, laughing a little as he followed the Thief Lord up a set of stairs. “Thank you for inviting me into your humble abode.”

“Oh, it’s no abode,” the Thief Lord said, turning and flashing Prosper a toothy smile. “It’s a headquarters.”

o0o0o0o

Scipio watched as Schera's back vanished behind one of the many buildings surrounding the Stella. He let out a sigh, sagging against the cool stone and carding a hand through his hair.

“Stressed?” Hornet asked, coming up behind him.

“You have no idea,” Scipio sighed, slipping the mask off. He rubbed his face, wincing. “That mask gets so ridiculously uncomfortable after five hours. I’m so glad I was able to take it off for a few hours while Schera was sleeping…”

Hornet laughed and nudged him in the side. “I don’t think I’ve seen you that worried since Riccio got sick that one time!”

Scipio glared at her half-heartedly before trudging back into the theater. As he walked, he shed clothing, draping his black cloak on the back of a seat and heading up to where the mattresses lay. “He interests me, that’s all. He looks to be about our age, so I’ve been wondering what he’s like. It’s not often you see twelve-year-old thieves running around. The first time I met him, he looked pretty inexperienced, so he must have some motives or something of the like.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Hornet said, dropping down onto her cot and shoving a pile of books to the side. “God knows you’ve already told us enough times.”

Leaning against the railing, Scipio flashed her a small smile. “I guess so, haven’t I? Anyway, where are Mosca and Riccio, now that I think about it? I told you guys to hide, but I didn’t mean disappear.”

“I think they went out,” Hornet shrugged. “Maybe they wanted to look around the shops and just roam around? Mosca needed some new parts and Riccio has been salivating for some sweets.”

Scipio sighed. “Of course they are. Well, when they get back, can you tell them to clean up some of their stuff? I’m pretty sure Schera almost tripped at least five times.”

Hornet nodded before turning away so that Scipio couldn’t see the grin spreading across her face. “I’m fairly certain that both of you fell hard,” she said.

“No, we didn’t,” Scipio let himself down onto an old mattress, collapsing against the stolen sheets. “We maintained our footing quite well, actually.”

“Puns,” Hornet muttered to herself.

Scipio pushed himself up onto his elbows, raising a brow. “What was that?”

Hornet smiled brightly, ignoring the question and heading over to her own bed. Scipio was resting on Mosca’s, which was probably the safest bet. Riccio’s was far too cluttered and suspiciously unsanitary. She picked up a book and brandished it at him. “If you aren’t going to be productive, then you might as well read. Do you have anywhere to go? Homework to do?”

“Don’t remind me,” Scipio groaned. “The Conte assigns far too many assignments for our level. We’re thirteen. There’s no way we can read that section of the textbook _and_ write an essay in the same night!” Still, he rose to his feet and brushed off his pants. “I probably need to get home. If I stay out for too long, then the adults start thinking that I’ve off and joined some band of ruffians, and they’ll never let me out again.”

Hornet set her book down beside her, finger saving the page. “Can’t you just run off and join us? You could change your appearance, and we could still keep all of the things we need to learn.”

Scipio bit his lip, fingers digging into his pockets. “I wish I could, but there are far too many ways that plan could go wrong. My best chances lie in just staying with them for now and hoping that I can leave in the future. I mean, there are only five more years until I can become independent!” He reached up and took off his bird mask, tossing it haphazardly onto a pile of clothes. “I’ll be back later after dinner.”

“Alright,” Hornet said, waving as Scipio scurried down the stairs and lept off the third to last step. “Do you want us to save a cannoli for you?”

Scipio flashed her a thumbs up right before the heavy doors swung closed. He was in the alleyway now, thankfully hidden from sight. He toed off his chucks and stuffed them into a box with his jacket, hiding it beneath the doorstep. From the same box, he grabbed a set of dress clothes, quickly buttoning up the crisp white shirt and sliding the stiff pants on over his ratty jeans. He pulled on a sweater, grimacing at the shade of orange, and hurried out of the dark, stone-paved alley.

His house wasn’t particularly far from the theater, only about five minutes on foot. His father had bought out the Stella and left it to decay, so there was little chance of him ever finding out that Scipio went there daily.

His feet thudded out a steady rhythm against the stone, carrying him to the obnoxiously large and lavish house that he reluctantly called home. “I’m back,” he said softly into the silence. There was no response, as usual. The stairs leading up to his room dragged on and on, stark white and cold marble.

The bed in his room was soft and plush as he fell back onto it, but the room seemed empty and devoid of comfort in a way that the Stella didn’t, even though it was filled with extravagant furniture and clothing. He rolled over onto his side and pulled out his backpack, dumping his homework onto the covers. He would need to start the essay soon…

o0o0o0o

After much pleading from Bo, Prosper decided to forgo the heist that he’d planned for the next night. He had told Bo that he had plans with friends (who were nonexistent except for maybe Scipio). There was no way that he was going to be able to pull it off anyway, not with his condition. After collapsing in front of the Thief Lord two days ago, he had been out of commision and had missed a day of school. He had just barely been able to avoid the wrath of a few teachers by not underplaying his condition. He still felt awful.

Still, he couldn’t just sit around. It felt unnatural to just lounge around when he could be out in the night and thieving. It wasn’t an addiction, though it was probably bordering on something along those lines. He threw a black sweatshirt and pulled on a pair of boots that he had filched from a careless neighbor. They were sturdy and fairly light, making them perfect for his night outings.

“Prop?” Bo’s sleepy voice came from behind him. “Where are you going?”

Prosper paused, then turned and laid a gentle hand on his little brother’s crown of blond hair. “I’m just going out for a bit. I might pick up something that you and mom can eat for lunch tomorrow, okay?”

Bo yawned, rubbing at his eyes. “Mmkay. Come back soon?”

“Yeah,” Prosper said. “Come on now, go back to bed. You need sleep!”

Bo nodded and padded off to his makeshift bed. It wasn’t until Prosper made sure that his brother actually was sleeping that he slipped out. As expected, the night air was brisk and chilly, but still refreshing. Prosper breathed in deeply, letting his muscles relax and allowing his problems to leave his mind as he roamed the nearly empty streets. He turned his hood up, ignoring the few stragglers still outside.

On his way to the little branch of shops for some food like he promised Bo, Prosper passed by the Stella. He slowed down and stood outside the abandoned theater. He recalled Scipio telling people to scram, so did that mean that there were actually people that lived inside?

He didn’t know what to make of the information. Either way, there was the possibility that he could find residence in the theater if there were...vacancies or something. Anything would beat their current living conditions, and there was no way his mother could get better if he stayed in the derelict building.

Bracing himself, he pushed the doors open, wincing at the low creaking sound. Prosper slipped in through the small crack he created, blinking away the spots from the sudden change in light. When his vision cleared, he was facing a group of three people, one of whom was the girl - Hornet, if he remembered correctly - that had confronted him about Scipio. What was she…

“-doing here?”

Prosper startled. “What…?”

A small scrawny boy took a step forward, sticking a broken curtain pole in his face. “I said, what are you doing here?” His voice reminded Prosper of something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Hornet held out a hand and held the boy back. “I know him. Don’t worry. Though, what are you doing here, Prosper?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? This is a pretty run down place, Hornet.” Prosper hunched into himself. He was outnumbered, and the situation probably wasn’t that severe of a threat. “I was just scoping out the place, figured that if I needed to relocate, here might work. Is that reason enough for you?” He directed the last question at the shortest boy, the one that was apparently still pointing the pole at him. Prosper reached up and gently pushed it away from his face, grimacing. “Could you please move that away?”

The boy scowled, but acquiesced, holding the pole like a staff, poised to strike. Prosper slowly backed away one step, stopping when he saw the group tense. “I…”

“What do you mean, relocate?” This time it was the other boy, looking significantly less antagonistic than the other two. His skin was dark and his face was relaxed. Prosper sagged a little.

“I… I need to find somewhere else to stay. In my current condition, I can’t exactly support my family and winter is coming. We’re not going to be able to last through the cold at the rate we’re going.” Prosper rubbed at his arm, fingers tangling in the fabric. Although the room felt pleasantly heated, there was a chill in his bones that remained

Hornet sighed. “I’ll need to check in with our...landlord.”

 _The Thief Lord_ , Prosper thought. “Alright,” he said. “You know where to find me, I guess.”

Hornet’s lips thinned, but she smiled. “I do.”

“Right,” Prosper backed away then, tugging the door open. He shivered at the blast of cool air. “I’ll be seeing you then?”

“Maybe,” Hornet said, raising a hand in farewell.

Prosper trudged down the stone paths, shoving his hands down his pockets. He’d talk about it with his mother later. In the morning, when she woke up. For now, he needed to do some shopping.

o0o0o0o

Scipio shed his jacket, draping them over the back of an old costume box, wooden and worn. It sagged in the corner, weighed down with the mass of clothes haphazardly thrown onto it. He ran a hand through his hair, falling back against a mattress. He knew instinctively that it was Hornet’s from the jab in his side. “Ugh, not again…”

He reached under himself and pulled the book out, taking care not to throw it off to the side. Grabbing a random piece of clothing, he stuck it between the pages as a makeshift bookmark before lying back down. Scipio didn’t have his own mattress since he stayed over at the Stella only three times a week at most. There was a stray blanket by his feet that he tugged over his shoulders, curling into the warmth he felt nearby. Sometimes he would happen upon Riccio or Mosca’s mattresses, and they would all just accept his presence. When he first took them in and created the team that they had now, he had told them all about his situation and what he would expect from them. He couldn’t bear to imagine how things would have crumbled and collapsed if he hadn’t.

“Scipio…?” Hornet mumbled. Scipio hummed softly in response. “Prosper came by earlier.”

He was wide awake now, sitting up in bed and looking in the general direction of her face. “What? Why would he come here?”

“Mm, he said he was looking for somewhere to relocate or something along those lines. He didn’t exactly give us a lot of information. Do you think we should?”

Scipio let his body collapse back onto the moth-eaten covers, drowsily burying his face into the still soft fabric. “I don’t know… We both know just how horrible his living conditions are right now. The best case scenario would be him joining us and us being able to keep the thievery a secret from him and his family.”

Hornet shifted on the bed, shuffling down so that they were approximately eye to eye. “That would be nearly impossible though.”

“Exactly.”

“Don’t worry about it for now then,” Hornet reassured. She reached out and grabbed his hand under the covers. “We can figure it out later, when we’re all fully awake and capable of making reasonable decisions.”

“Yeah,” Scipio mumbled. There was no response; Hornet had already drifted off. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the impending feeling of dread. The air felt thick and heavy as he dragged in breaths until he fell asleep.


End file.
